


Checking References

by zinke



Series: What We Didn't See [1]
Category: West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-13
Updated: 2007-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:45:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Can you honestly tell me that any concerns you have about my ability to effectively represent this campaign are purely professional?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Checking References

**Author's Note:**

> In watching the later half of the West Wing's seventh season (again), it occurred to me that the attention paid to the evolution of the Josh/Donna relationship (from, "The guy who kept me in grunt level servitude because I knew he liked his hamburgers burnt like hockey pucks," and "You ditched me when I gave you a career," to "Want to take a walk…or something?" and "So…last night was nice…") was a little lacking. So, I decided to try and fill in the blanks by writing a series of post-eps and missing scenes for the episodes in-between. This is the first installment.
> 
> Thanks to Amara for the beta; my grammar's never looked so good.

* * * *

I'm the kid who thought someday we'd be lovers  
Always held out that time would tell  
Time was talking guess I just wasn't listening  
No surprise if you know me well  
And as we're walking toward the train station  
There's a whispering rainfall  
Cross the boulevard you slip your hand in mine  
In the distance the train calls.  
\- "The Kid", Buddy Mondlock

* * * *

"Any problems reaching him?"

"Huh?" He tried, and failed, to keep his expression neutral as his eyes took in the at once familiar and foreign sight of her, standing in the conference room doorway.

"My reference," she replied as she stepped forward into the room and placed her now overstuffed bag on a nearby chair. "I hear the main switchboard has a predilection for dropping calls."

"What?!? It does? Damn it..." He began shifting wildly in the chair in an attempt to reach for the Blackberry holstered at his waist.

Donna pursed her lips in exasperation. "Josh. Josh. JOSH!" His head finally snapped up painfully, revealing eyebrows perched high on his rumpled forehead. "No, it doesn't, and stop it."

"Stop what?" he replied, dropping his eyes quickly to the pages scattered on the table before him in an effort to avoid her piercing gaze.

"Lou was right. And I want this job. Damn it, I deserve this job, Josh."

"You _deserve_ it? And what, exactly, led you to that conclusion?"

"Don't be an ass."

"Hardly the way to endear yourself to a potential employer."

"Potential?" she dared, fire flashing in her eyes.

"I don't know what Lou may have promised you, or how Will ran things during his spectacularly misguided Russell campaign, but here I sign off on the hiring of all new staff."

"So you've said," she replied coolly. Sliding into the nearest chair, she folded her hands neatly on the tabletop and watched him expectantly. "Okay then, what are your concerns?"

"Concerns," he said with a frown, tossing the word out like a gauntlet between them.

She accepted his challenge with the slightest of nods. "Yes. You know my resume, probably better than I do. And you've obviously seen my work. So, why is it, exactly, that you feel I am unqualified to be the spokesperson for Santos campaign?"

"Donna—"

"No, Josh!" she barked. "You don't get to whine your way out of this. Can you honestly tell me that any concerns you have about my ability to effectively represent this campaign are purely professional?"

He slammed the heel of his palm against the table as his frustration finally got the better of him. "You know damn well it's not that simple!" Scrubbing a hand over his face, he muttered sadly, "It never was," as his posture visibly deflated and he sunk back into his seat.

"No," she conceded softly, "it wasn't. But it should have been."

He flinched as if slapped, before schooling his expression into a hardened mask. "Fine." Rising stiffly from his seat, he began gathering his papers into haphazard pile before jamming them roughly into his backpack. "The Congressman's accepted the invitation to the Al Smith Dinner for tomorrow night, and we'll need you with us. Be ready to leave at 10 o'clock tomorrow morning."

Even though she hadn't expected him to, she was disappointed that he didn't pursue her words further. "Are we sure it's a good idea for the Congressman to be presenting a pro-choice platform to an opposition audience right now?"

"No, but if he doesn't go to New York, things are only going to get worse."

"There's a pretty strong chance that things are going to get worse no matter what we do."

Josh dropped his head into his palms and closed his eyes tightly, his Adam's apple bobbing furiously as he swallowed. "Yeah."

Across the table, Donna shifted self-consciously in her seat as she watched him struggle. Her discomfort only grew with the passing of the seconds; belatedly she realized that in another time and place, their shared silence wouldn't have felt this cold, this empty. Quietly, she levered herself to her feet and reached for her bag.

At the doorway she turned to find that he hadn't moved, seemingly unable or unwilling to acknowledge her departure. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd seen him look so utterly and completely lost, and for the first time in months, she remembered what it was like not to hate him. With her pride screaming in protest, she took a tentative step back into the room. "That's not what I meant. Earlier. I didn't mean—"

"Whatever."

"No, not whatever," she countered steadily. "It was never just 'whatever' to me, Josh. I don't know why it is you don't believe that, but it's the truth."

As the seconds passed and he continued to say nothing, she felt the familiar burn of resentment re-bloom in her chest. Shaking her head in frustration, she hefted her bag onto her shoulder and turned again to leave.

If it hadn't been after midnight, if there had been just a few more people still working in the suite, she wouldn't have even heard him. "I meant it, Donna." She turned again to regard him cautiously. He had finally pulled his face from his hands, and was watching her with a look of pure desperation. "I did—do miss you. Everyday."

Raising her arms from her sides, she replied sadly, "I'm right here, Josh."

"No," he replied with equal sadness, "you're really not."

She felt as if the air had been knocked from her lungs. Blinking rapidly, she tried furiously to think of something, anything to say that could salvage this—salvage them. And, coming up with nothing, fell back on the lone thread tying the two of them together. "So, ten o'clock tomorrow morning?"

He nodded slowly, whether in response to her question or as an acknowledgment of everything they'd left unspoken, she couldn't be sure. She was out of practice, and was simply too tired to try anymore tonight. Turning a final time, she left.

After all, she had to get home and pack.

 

*fin.*


End file.
